


Siege of Thrones

by kiki_92



Category: Game of Thrones (TV), Tom Clancy's Rainbow Six (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Game of Thrones Fusion, Anal Sex, Fuze is the mother of dragons, I blame Discord for this, Multi, Tearing Clothes Off, Throne Sex, Valkyrie is a Martell, now with porn!, way too many Lannisters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-27
Updated: 2018-05-24
Packaged: 2019-04-28 07:18:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14444199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiki_92/pseuds/kiki_92
Summary: Scenes written on the premise: R6S ops but in Game of Thrones setting & Houses.Rating has gone up because now we have porn, and death will soon roll in as well. This a Game of Thrones AU after all!Update: Chapter 3 is FuzeJager porn :3Still a WIP - BandiGlaz coming next I swear!





	1. Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken

**Author's Note:**

  * For [carysias](https://archiveofourown.org/users/carysias/gifts), [Silky133](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silky133/gifts).



> Gifted to my fellow co-conspirators who helped develop this AU <3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elzbieta Lannister has had enough of her family's machinations, so she runs away.

When she planned her escape, riding for weeks actually seemed like a good plan. Now she was sick to death of riding and her ass was sore in places she never imagined could be sore. However, Elzbieta Lannister was not someone who gave up at the first setback or inconvenience. No one in her family was, but Ela preferred to think of it as something unique to her character and not her family.

Although she supposed she didn’t have a family any longer. And good riddance to them! Her father wanted to marry her to her cousin Dominic, how fucked up was that? That was the first time in her life she and Dominic agreed on something. The wedding wasn’t going to happen. Ever. Besides, if she had to sit through another of her father’s lectures about _“_ _Why can'_ _t you be a good and proper lady like my beloved heir Zofia?_ _”_ she would have committed a murder, and there's no worse crime in the eyes of the Gods than being a kinslayer. However, what ultimately pushed Elzbieta to run away were Zofia's machinations. Her _perfect_ sister didn’t have the any qualms about using her. She felt that to Zofia she was just a pawn in her machinations, another piece to beat with her so called game of thrones. Having a murder pinned on her had been harrowing enough, but learning it was her sister who incriminated her was worse.

She ran away in the middle of the night, which probably made some people question her recently proclaimed innocence. Ela dressed as one of the maids in order to blend in, carrying only a small pouch of coins and her set of throwing knives with her. And she took Zofia’s priced horse, just to spite her one last time. Her father’s reaction was immediate, next morning she started hearing rumours about Jan Lannister’s missing daughter and the reward offered to bring her back. Ela panicked; there was no way she was going back! She would go to Dorne, where the Lannister name was most hated, and sign into the first mercenary group she found. Nobody would ever think to search for her there, and Ela would finally be free to live her life as she saw fit, away from court and her family’s machinations.

She had to be really cautious the first days, barely daring to let herself be seen on the villages and sleeping in the forest, away from prying eyes and greedy hands. There had been a couple of encounters with bandits, but she had no major troubles getting rid of them. Men never expected her to carry knives hidden on the bodice and skirts of her dress. Small knives were easier to hide, and easier to throw with devastating accuracy. Those fools never stood a chance.

The closer she was to Dorne, the less she heard people gossip about the missing Lannister and the accursed reward offered to find her. It was a refreshing change, and for the first time she actually wandered into the market instead of avoiding the crowds. Ela really needed to find a merchant and stock on supplies, since she was about to begin her travel through the Dornish desert.

The village was small and charming, so different from the places she’d grown seeing around her. The houses had a unique style, people covered their heads with shawls and hoods in an attempt to stave off the unforgiving glare of the sun, and the foods being sold at the market looked exotic to her. A pretty young woman selling fruits smiled at her and offered a free sample of her dates. Children ran up and down, playing and yelling. And no one looked twice at her. Ela dared to breathe out in relief. Although in all fairness, after weeks of riding and sleeping in the forest, she did not look like a noblewoman at all, which had been her goal from the start.

Saddlebags full of food and water, Ela finally left the village. If her memory didn't fail, the Princess Pass was less than a day from here. She stopped to ask for directions to an old shepherd looking after his cows, who gestured wildly as he corrected her route. Freedom was so close she could taste it.

_ _ _

Traveling through the desert was nothing like Ela could have imagined. Sand and dunes stretched endlessly on all directions and she no longer knew if she was going on a straight line or deviating from her course. She was always thirsty, and if her water supplies hadn't dwindled dramatically it was only thanks to her iron will. The horse wasn't having an easier time. Zofia's horse was a racing mare, not a sand steed like the Martells used, and the poor beast had never before been in conditions like these. Although the worst were the nights, when the temperature dropped dramatically and Ela shivered no matter where she tried to sleep.

A small group of jackals had been following her for a while, keeping their distance for now but slowly inching closer. The horse was nervous and Ela kept her hand close to her knives, ready to strike the moment they came too close. Her four legged pursuers just kept after her, probably waiting until she was weaker. They could become a problem if she tried to stop for the night.

Hours later, she was in the same position as before, but more sunburnt. Fed up, she spun around and threw one of her knives to the closest jackal. The knife sunk into its ribcage and the animal yelped in pain. The bigger one then jumped to bite the horse, drawing blood and spooking it. The horse reared up and kick wildly, but the jackal dodged cleverly to the side. Ela’s knife hit its neck and killed the jackal, but the horse wasn’t calming down with the smell of blood. Ela retrieved her knife and turned to the side, looking for the one she had hurt before. Was it dead or still alive?

A spear suddenly came flying past her and took down the one trying to attack Ela from the back. A group of desert warriors appeared from behind a dune and surrounded her, and the other jackals scattered like dust in the wind. The leader of the group dismounted and went to retrieve the spear, an imposing woman with strange paint on her face and golden hair light sunlight.

"Thank you," Ela decided being courteous to her rescuer was the best idea. "I hadn't seen that one jumping on me."

"It was no trouble. Although I never expected to find the lost lion wandering around my desert." The woman's words were gentle and carried no venom, but made the rest of her group laugh.

"Am not a lion," Ela scowled. "You must be confused."

The woman smirked, and it was a sight to behold. "Nothing escapes the notice of the Black Eye. And what the Black Eye knows, I know."

Something clicked in place in Ela's memory: the appearance and unique fighting style, the casual name drop of the infamous spy net…

"You're the Valkyrie!"

Meghan Martell, heir of Sunspear and figure of endless rumors everywhere in the seven kingdoms.  Her excited outburst got someone shouting _"You got an admirer Valk!_ _”_ , which ensued more laughter from the group.

"And you're Jan Lannister's lost daughter," Valkyrie shot back.

"I'm just Ela the sellsword." Valkyrie stared at her and then shrugged. She mounted back on her horse and held out her hand to Ela.

"Come, Ela the sellsword. There's a sandstorm brewing in the east." Valkyrie looked at a certain point in the distance. Ela didn't see anything out of the ordinary, there was sand everywhere she looked. But only a fool would ignore the advice of a desert dweller.

She accepted the outstretched hand and was helped up the horse, while one of the other warriors made sure Ela's injured horse tagged along the group. Riding the same horse as Valkyrie was awkward, as Ela wasn't the best rider and had to clutch Valkyrie's waist in order to not fall down. At least she didn't seem to mind, and neither did she make fun of it.

At sundown they arrived to a port Ela didn't remember from her map. Valkyrie talked with a boat captain and got passage for them both, since apparently it was the fastest route to Sunspear. The rest of the group would go back on horse, including Ela's and Valkyrie's mounts, since the captain adamantly refused to carry horses on the ship. When Ela asked about the sudden haste, Valkyrie ignored her question and offered to lend her some clean and more practical clothes. It wasn't the answer she wanted, but Ela wouldn't turn down the chance to ditch the annoying skirts in favor of some pants.

_ _ _

Sea sickness was something that didn't affect Ela, but the hot winds and endless sun got her. She felt bad for ever doubting sunstroke could be something serious. She felt like she was slowly cooking from the outside in, baking like a pie. Her skin was red, her throat parched and her head spun when she tried to get up from her bed in the small cabin she shared with Valkyrie.

"I hate this," she said aloud as Valkyrie brought her a cup of water. "I'm like an invalid."

"You shouldn't have stayed out on the sun for so long without covering your head." Valkyrie helped her sit up on the bed.

"I was challenged!" Ela defended herself.

The captain's second was also a knife thrower, and he'd been amused to see her set of knives. When he boasted he could hit any target with his eyes closed, Ela agreed to a friendly competition. Which evolved into a drawn out set of tasks that had all the crew betting on them.

"Yes, and it won me some coin too." For some reason, knowing Valkyrie betted on her made her happy. Although the newfound respect the crew had for her was also very nice. “But uncle Ryad won’t be happy if I bring you in unconscious.”

“Ryad Martell? What does he want with me?” Ela was suspicious of anyone’s motives wanting to talk with her, a mindset that kept her out of trouble more often than not. Besides, knowing Ryad “Jackal” Martell wanted to interrogate her was not reassuring in the slightest.

Valkyrie soaked a sponge in a bowl of water and dripped water over Ela’s exposed arms, which helped immensely to make her feel less like an overcooked strip of bacon. Watching Valkyrie’s arms flex as she then fanned her was hypnotic, and Ela didn’t feel guilty for staring. If the woman adorned her arms with those tattoos, she wanted them to be seen and admired. And they were really nice to look at.

“The Black Eye brought some strange rumours from across the Narrow Sea, about the last dragon laying down with the exiled lion,” Valkyrie explained in a hushed voice sitting next to Ela on the small bed. “And now another lost lion arrives to our land.”

“I’m no lion, I told you that.” Ela frowned, thinking about Valkyrie’s words. The last dragon would be the exiled Targaryen prince, Shuhrat. And the exiled lion? Was that her cousin Marius? He was sent almost a year ago, something to do with his brother Dominic, but she couldn’t remember what happened exactly. “Is that what you want from me? To interrogate me and have as leverage against my family?”

“That depends on whether you are Ela or Elzbieta Lannister,” Valkyrie answered her. “But in any case, what _I_ want isn’t that.”

“Oh? And what is that?” Ela asked.  They were so close she could see the way her black paint was smudged on her skin.

Valkyrie leaned in closer and Ela closed her eyes. The kiss was soft and sweet like the first taste of a cup of vintage wine, and equally addictive.

_ _ _

Ela liked to think Elzbieta Lannister was forever lost at sea, along with her bitterness for the future.

The person that emerged from the ship on Sunspear was a different woman, tanned and with her hair dyed green, dressed in riding leathers and walking arm in arm with Meghan Martell.  She was introduced to the Jackal of Sunspear as Valkyrie’s paramour, and she was greeted as family.  Yes, life was looking better for Ela than it ever did for Elzbieta Lannister.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear I have nothing against Zofia and I'm not trying to villanize her! It's just that the Lannisters are a messed up bunch, and I had to create their sister rivalry somehow in the GoT universe.


	2. Who said songs aren't real?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marius is still in awe of the last Targaryen and his dragons.

All his life Marius Lannister had been told songs were not real, usually by Dominic and father. Perhaps if he listened to them Dominic’s betrayal wouldn’t have hurt so much. But ultimately, Marius had proof they were wrong. Sometimes songs came to life right in front of your eyes. After all, right now he was watching the last Targaryen feed pieces of meat to his three dragons.

The usually cold faced man smiled as he watched two of the dragons fight for the bloody parcel he just tossed at them. The third one was coiled around Shuhrat’s neck and shoulders, sleeping like a clingy cat. Marius had helped feed them when they hatched, but now they could produce flame, and he wasn’t impervious to fire. Although Marius felt privileged enough knowing he was the only person Shuhrat trusted to see him like this, unguarded and scratching the dragonlings like they were just small dogs and not miniature mass destruction weapons. For everyone else he always wore what Marius called his princely mask, but not when they were alone.

“You look lost in thought, love.”

“How much will they grow?” Marius asked, gesturing at the two beasts still bickering over the meat.

“Big enough to ride into battle. My ancestor’s dragons were said to be bigger than warships.”

A humbling perspective, especially when coupled with the famed Targaryen ruthlessness in battle. Another myth he’d witnessed in person. Shuhrat himself seemed to have stepped out of a song: lost prince in search of his family’s throne, great warrior, handsome enough to make maidens swoon, and he had dragons. Marius was still in awe he had the attention and confidence of someone like that, and would never stop thanking the Gods for making their paths cross that fateful day in Pentos, when he stopped that assassin from stabbing Shuhrat in the back.

“Marius?” he asked with a frown, petting the little scaly terror draped around him.

“Sorry, I was lost in memories,” he confessed sheepishly.

“Good memories or bad memories?” Of course he’d told Shuhrat about Dominic and his family, and the circumstances that landed him on Essos. He knew Shuhrat worried about him sometimes, it was both embarrassing and a source of giddy delight. He cared, that Marius would never doubt.

“About you. So, good memories.”

His smile was radiant like sunlight and Marius wanted to kiss him, but he was hesitant to get too close to the dragons.

“We have to meet with the kind masters in two hours. I could ask for a bath to be prepared for the both of us.”

Marius frowned at the mention of the slavers, but then he registered the rest of what Shuhrat said and blushed. “Y-yes, that sounds good!”

Their worries over armies and greedy slavers could wait until later. His prince’s smirk was a promise of intense passion and Marius wanted nothing more than to let the Targaryen ravage him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fuze ended up being a Targaryen because cluster charge = dragons lmao  
> And yes, I did give Jäger a bit of Sansa's innocence and love of songs.


	3. Right of conquest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised you FuzeJager porn ari_cyanide, and here it is :D

“The city is yours, your Grace.”

Shuhrat made a small nod of acknowledgement and thanked the captain of the Unsullied. The battle was over, but this had only begun.  From the window he could see the columns of smoke rising high, a gift from where his dragons had aided him in taking the city by storm.

The throne room of the Great Pyramid was in a similar state of chaos. The Unsullied were carting off the body of the previous ruler, leaving tracks of blood in the floor while dragging the corpse. The servants cowered in a corner, all on their knees but oddly calm about the situation. Shuhrat had to remind himself they were all slaves probably, and sighed. He’d had to make an official proclaim freeing all the slaves, not just his newly acquired Unsullied troops. But not now. Later.  Right now he still had the thrum of blood rushing in his ears, the surge of the fight simmering in him. He wouldn’t be able to do a speech even if he tried.

“What state is the city in? How many dead?” Marius asked to the Unsullied captain.

Whatever the answer, Shuhrat did not pay an ounce of attention to it. Marius looked like someone who had barely eluded disaster: pants slashed open where a spear almost got him, shirt stained red with the blood of their enemies, face still flushed from battle.  His blood boiled hotter just by looking at him. The bloodlust from battle quickly morphing into a different type of lust. Gods be good, he wanted him so much.

“Everyone out except my advisor,” Shuhrat growled. His voice carried enough command that everyone shuffled out wordlessly, the Unsullied captain directing a bow of respect at him before closing the giant door after him.

“What’s gotten on –  hmph!”

No sooner were they alone, Shuhrat jumped on Marius, cutting him off midsentence. He captured Marius’ mouth, using his surprise to slip his tongue in, hands going down to squeeze his firm ass. It was hungry and desperate, and Shuhrat didn’t want it any other way. Marius wasn’t complaining either, eagerly chasing his tongue and moaning into the kiss. Those sweet sounds were doing nothing to quell the desire in him. He broke the kiss to tear off Marius’ shirt. Literally. Shuhrat didn’t stop to unlace it, he just yanked it off not caring if the fabric was torn in the process. It was a luck neither of them was wearing a proper suit of armour, because those took way too much time to take off and he was short on patience.

“Hey!” Marius protested at the rough way he was being divested. However, his protests turned into a pleased sigh when Shuhrat moved from kissing his mouth to leaving a trail of sloppy, wet kisses over his jaw and neck and chest. He was so turned on, his dick straining against the confines of his trousers. “Shu-Shuhrat, what are you doing?”

“I need you. Right now. Please,” he whispered against the exposed skin of his throat, sucking on Marius’ clavicle for emphasis.

Just a single nod before Marius kissed him, and Shuhrat was already pawing off the torn trousers, along with his underclothes. They suffered the same fate as the shirt, the already slashed fabric rupturing easily and leaving Marius naked. Marius shivered as Shuhrat grabbed his buttocks possessively, kneading the supple flesh and pressing him roughly against his own heated body.  He felt Marius hardening cock pressing against the tent in his crotch and that seemed to jolt the Lannister into action. His hands flew to undo the laces of Shuhrat’s pants, opening them just enough to grab his erection.

“Sit on the throne,” Marius breathed against his lips. The way his thumb stroked the crown of his cock was extremely distracting and it took Shuhrat a moment to comprehend what he’d heard.

The throne of Meeren was a huge granite chair, hideous in its plainness except for the even uglier harpy carved on top of it. Shuhrat had wanted to pull it down since he’d seen it. However, Marius’ voice was full of promise, so he went to sit on it without questioning why.

“I live to serve my King,” Marius said as he sank to his knees, looking at the Targaryen prince while toying with his hard member.

Shuhrat was pretty damn sure this wasn’t a common way to show devotion to a King, but who was he to complain? Marius kissed and licked the tip of his cock, tasting it with enthusiasm.  Marius slowly slid his lips further down Shuhrat’s throbbing shaft, and he moaned at the wet sensation enveloping him. This wasn’t what he planned doing when he first started undressing Marius, but he was more than fine settling for an amazing blowjob if that was all Marius wanted to do. Marius, however, had other ideas.

With a final lick to his cock, Marius stood up. "I... I'm going to..."

Deciding it was better to act rather than explain it, Marius climbed on his lap, looking at him with sudden shyness as he did so. It finally dawned on Shuhrat what he wanted to do.

"Don't I need to prepare you?" They might had had a glorious romp in the bath a few hours ago, but he'd rather take a moment to stretch him rather than hurting Marius.  He captured his bottom lip and sucked on it, enjoying the way Marius reacted. He tangled one of his hands on Shuhrat’s curly hair, while the other rested behind his neck.

"I don't think so..." Trusting his lover's word, Shuhrat grabbed him by the hips and guided him down on his cock. Marius sank slowly on it, taking his time to adjust to the feeling and moaning deliciously every time he slipped down another inch. Shuhrat was sure this was both heaven and hell.

Despite his assurances, Marius looked like he was having a hard time, face buried in Shuhrat’s neck as he panted, not moving yet. "Give me a moment."

He gripped the stony armrests of the throne, willing himself to remain still instead of giving into his desire to pound Marius into oblivion. After a few seconds Shuhrat couldn't hold back any longer and moved his hips up. He was rewarded with a throaty moan that evidenced more pleasure than pain, which was exactly what he wanted to hear. Soon Marius started moving too, bouncing on his cock like a little whore, gaining speed as they found a satisfying rhythm. The sound of their ragged breathing and flesh slapping against flesh echoed in the vast throne room.

"Gods, Marius, is that how you usually show devotion?" Shuhrat grunted, his hands going to hold Marius' backside and squeeze it greedily.

"For you, only for you! Ah!" The hand still tangled on his hair tugged at it with each of his thrusts, slight pain mixing with the pleasure in a heady combination.

"Perhaps we should do this in front of the whole court next time," Shuhrat said, chasing his peak and letting his mind wander on filthy fantasies. "Everyone would see how much of a whore you can be, fucking yourself on my dick like this. They would all lust for you, love."

"Would you share me?" His Lannister played along, touching himself as he rode his King, moaning and grinding down on his cock.

"Dragons don't share what's theirs." He bit down on Marius' throat, marking him. In that same instant Marius came, the spilled seed staining Shuhrat’s clothes and the contractions of his lover's body pulling him along down the edge.

He finished inside Marius, throwing his head back in pleasure and accidentally hitting the back of his head against the throne harder than expected. Ow. Marius laughed, despite rushing to ask him if he was okay, kissing his neck his neck to stifle his giggles.

It was a small slice of perfection, even with the pain blooming on his scalp. They were on a path to war, it was inevitable, and precisely for that reason they treasured this moments more than anything. Although Marius wasn’t so happy when he went to get dressed again and realized his clothing was so damaged it wouldn’t sit on his frame without falling off him.

 “Are you ready? I’m going to call everyone in again,” the young conqueror asked.

“Not yet!” Marius hissed at him. “This damned shirt keeps sliding from my shoulders because someone had to tear it off!”

Shuhrat rather liked the view, but at the moment his opinion was not well received by the Lannister, who struggled to get back a semblance of composure. The Targaryen prince supposed it wasn’t a good moment to pin the badge of Hand of the King on Marius, although it could help his shirt from falling open again.

 


End file.
